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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116393">you drew stars around my scars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicshaw/pseuds/sapphicshaw'>sapphicshaw</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/F, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Reader-Insert, Smut, we all just want wanda to ruin our lives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:21:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicshaw/pseuds/sapphicshaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You get to know each other through bad jokes and drunk confessions of embarrassing moments in your youths.</p><p>She learns you're shit at pool, you don't have a poker face, and that you get flustered at pretty much everything, <em>and good god does she love to work you up.</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wanda Maximoff/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>296</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>wandavision has me too excited to function, so i wrote this.<br/>i'm by no means a marvel genius so if there are any factual errors, please forgive my lack of knowledge lol.<br/>(reader perspective is more on the femme side)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You meet at a grief group. She's quiet and hides beneath a baseball cap and sunglasses. You recognize her, and you're sure the other members do too, but there's a code that everyone respects.</p><p>You have never shared, and neither has she.</p><p>You just listen and try to feel less alone. Somehow the shared experience of losing a loved one helps you.</p><p>There's a bar across the street, and it's tempting. (<em>You've never been good with temptation.) </em>You find yourself there after every meeting, drinking away the memories. You spot Wanda one night, sitting alone at a booth. Her hat is on, but her sunglasses rest on the table. She's nursing a dark drink, her eyes unfocused and lost in thought. </p><p>You signal the bartender and ask what she's drinking. </p><p>"Whiskey coke."</p><p>"Send one her way. On my tab."</p><p>He nods and makes the drink after a minute. When he walks over and sets the drink down, she's broken out of thought. The bartender points at you at mutters something you can't hear. She nods at you as a thanks.</p><p>The next week, she sits next to you during the meeting. She gives you a reserved smile when you glance at her. After the meeting concludes, you get to the bar, and before you can request your drink, the bartender sets one in front of you. A margarita.</p><p>You frown and before you can ask, he motions to Wanda, who is sitting at a booth.</p><p>Your lips tug up and you make your way over to her, the clacking of your heels barely heard over the shitty country music playing. You sit across from her and introduce yourself. </p><p>"Wanda," she responds, taking her sunglasses off. Your lips part as you see her eyes up so close. They're stunningly green. </p><p>You run a finger along the rim of your glass as she takes a sip of her whiskey, the silence sitting heavy.</p><p>"Is this a regular place for you?" she asks after a moment.</p><p>"After a rough day, yeah. Which, to be fair, is every day."</p><p>"A fellow alcoholic," she jokes, raising her glass. You raise yours and clink it against hers. </p><p>It becomes a regular thing. Every week one of you would get to the bar first and order for the other. Wanda spoke of everything but the loss of her brother and the loss of her lover. You spoke of everything but your dead sister. You get to know each other through bad jokes and drunk confessions of embarrassing moments in your youths. You learn she has a dry sense of humor, she's crazy good at pool, and her accent comes through after she's had a few. She learns you're shit at pool, you don't have a poker face, and that you get flustered at pretty much everything, and <em>god</em> does she love to work you up. </p><p>Wanda doesn't share too much about herself. She deflects about half of your questions and tries to get you to open up instead. She slowly makes her way through your walls. To be honest, she has it easy when you're drunk. You don't really have a filter when alcohol is involved.</p><p>///</p><p>"That's a crude game."</p><p>"It's fun," you plead, giving her a hopeful smile.</p><p>"I work with these people. How am I supposed the pick who to fuck, marry, and kill?" she asks, shaking her head at you while hiding a smile.</p><p>"I will play if you do," you offer before adding, "and I'll buy you another drink."</p><p>She regards you for a moment before a devious smile spreads on her face. "I will do it if you take a shot of <em>real</em> vodka with me."</p><p>You groan, thinking back to the time you told her there was no difference between Russian vodka and American vodka. She freaked and vowed she would make you drink <em>real</em> vodka. You hate vodka. All types. But because you want to hear her answers, you agree. </p><p>"Captain America, Hawkeye, Ant-Man," you say with a teasing smile.</p><p>Wanda rolls her eyes and runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh. "This is gross." You just wait, and eventually, she speaks, "Marry Hawkeye because he's angsty and would leave me alone. Fuck Captain America and kill the ant."</p><p>"I too would fuck the Cap. But only when he had that sexy beard," you giggle, not noticing the flicker of red in her eyes. </p><p> "He's old now," her tone bordering on jealousy.</p><p><em>No,</em> you think, <em>you're just reading into it. It's not like she would be jealous of an old crush you had on a superhero.</em></p><p>You clear your throat and laugh off your comment. She seems to lighten up, so you continue the game. After a few more, she signals the bartender and two shots of <em>real </em>vodka are set at the table. </p><p>"<em>Na zdorovye</em>," she clinks her glass with yours and you both down the vodka. You wince at the burn, but you have to admit, it goes down pretty smooth.</p><p>"That's," you cough a bit before continuing, "an intense vodka."</p><p>"Eastern Europe does one thing well and that's vodka," she grins, looking unaffected from the shot. She notices the look of pain on your face and can't help but laugh.</p><p>Looking back, you'll realize this is the moment your heartstrings started to pull towards her. Her smile and her lips and her laugh and the way her hair frame her face and the way she speaks, <em>god</em>, she's everything right in the world.</p><p>///</p><p>Months pass and the two of you become something akin to friends. You've never hung out with Wanda outside of the bar, but it doesn't seem to matter. You admit to her that the only places you frequent are your apartment, workplace, and this bar. She admits the same.</p><p>Her chin rests on her hand as her fingers tap her cheek. You regard her chipped black nail polish and the several rings that adorn her fingers. You imagine them inside of you, and <em>god</em>, you really need to stop drinking. The last thing you need right now is fantasies of your (<em>kinda</em>) friend fucking you.</p><p>She notices you staring and raises an eyebrow. "Do I have something on my face?" she asks, a hint of her Sokovian accent in her intonation. </p><p>"No, you're perfect." Fuck. Alcohol makes your brain fuzzy. </p><p>She grins into her beer, taking a swig from the bottle and you really should not find it as attractive as you do. "Far from it, actually."</p><p>You don't argue, and instead, take a sip from your margarita.</p><p>She gives you a judgemental look. "I can't believe you drink those. It's just wrong."</p><p>"Yes, because your tastes are so refined," you retort. </p><p>Her tongue darts out and she wets her lips. "Oh, darling, you have no idea," she says, her voice dropping an octave.</p><p>You let out a nervous laugh, trying to hide your blush by taking a gulp of your drink. You change the subject, "So, I kinda have to know something."</p><p>Wanda tilts her head, and her hair falls perfectly in place, framing her face. "Yes?"</p><p>"Have you ever," you cringe, "read my mind."</p><p>Her eyes flash with excitement. "Why? Are you hiding something from me <em>darling</em>?" her tone is light and you figure she must be reading your mind because she <em>has</em> to know what her calling you that does.</p><p>"I'm hiding <em>so</em> much," you tease. "But I just need to know how much you're aware of so I don't have to keep up any white lies."</p><p>She knows your joking and giggles at your response. When she realizes you really want an answer, she straights herself and tells you, "I haven't looked in your mind. I try not to do it to anyone unless there's a threat. It's," she pauses, "it can be invasive and I don't always like it."</p><p>You nod, tapping your glass as you consider her for a moment. "I'd trust you, you know?"</p><p>She frowns, confused. "Sorry?"</p><p>"I'd trust you to look in my mind. If you ever wanted to."</p><p>Something heartbreakingly beautiful flashes across her face. "You have no idea what that entails," she admits, looking away.</p><p>"Maybe not. But I trust you. Not because you're an Avenger, but because you've sat with me the past four months and have given me every reason to put faith in you."</p><p>She doesn't say anything, but her fingers reach out and grasp your hand. She nods and gives you a look that speaks for itself. Her hand is cold yet somehow thrums with heat. It's a tantalizing feeling that causes goosebumps to erupt over your skin. </p><p>She pulls away after she gives you an adoring smile that sends butterflies racing in your stomach. "I'm going to order more drinks. We're getting blasted and I'm challenging you to a drinking contest."</p><p>"You're a literal Avenger. That's so unfair."</p><p>"Girl <em>please</em>. I've seen you drink just as much as me. You're not getting out of this."</p><p>You laugh and shake your head in defeat and prepare to outdrink her. "Alright. Bring it on Maximoff."</p><p>///</p><p>You don't take any breaks in between shots. And you haven't eaten anything in hours and <em>woah</em>, that alcohol is going through you. But Wanda is ahead, and you refuse to let her win.</p><p>You eventually catch up to her shot count and lean back against the booth. "I can't feel my tongue. I think the vodka burned my tastebuds off."</p><p>She laughs and stands, a little wobbly, before moving to your side of the booth and sitting next to you. "Do you wanna feel something really cool?" she asks, a mischievous smile on her face. You nod and she says, "I try not to do this in public, so you'll have to be quiet."</p><p>Her words sound so dirty and you're too drunk to hide the blush on your cheeks. "Okay," you agree after a second.</p><p>She looks down at your modest skirt and grins. Her finger pulls the hem up a few inches and your mind goes to <em>very</em> dirty places. The pad of her index finger traces over your skin before she releases her magic. </p><p>Your body trembles with energy and you feel as though you could run a marathon. Her magic spreads around your thigh and it's the most pleasantly excruciating feeling. You want to let out a whine or a scream, but your throat won't let you. The red glow from her magic fades and your body returns to homeostasis. You look at her with hazy eyes and a heart beating wildly fast. "That was," you try to think of a word to describe what you just felt, but find none.</p><p>"I know," she smirks, and what used to be just one finger on your thigh turns into her whole hand. She rubs your skin slowly and methodically and she <em>has</em> to know she's driving you crazy. </p><p>You're so wet. If she moved her fingers up a few more inches, she would feel <em>just</em> how wet you are.</p><p>Her eyes are dark and you realize she knows <em>exactly</em> what she's doing. You lean closer to her and let out a sigh as you smell her distinct fragrance of smoke and peaches <em>and it just fits her perfectly.</em></p><p>A glass shatters and breaks you out of your haze. You take a look around the bar and realize how full it's gotten. You turn back to Wanda a whisper, "I think a breath of fresh air would be nice."</p><p>She bites her bottom lip and stands, her hand grasping yours as she leads you to the bar's side door.</p><p>///</p><p>You're pushed against the wall as soon as you're outside. You whine at the contrast of Wanda's cold hands cupping your burning cheeks. She kisses your frantically, almost as if she's in a rush, but you don't mind in the slightest. Your left-hand finds her waist while your right tangles itself in her auburn locks. You tug at her hair and she moans into your mouth, her thigh parting yours and pushing against your center. </p><p>You curse, breaking the kiss, your forehead falling against her shoulder. She notes your reaction and increases the pressure against your center. Your hand falls from her locks and before you can wrap your arm around her waist, her hand shoots out and grips yours. Her hands have moved away from your cheeks to grip both of your wrists and pin them above the wall. She holds them against the brick with one hand and moves her other under your shirt.</p><p>You hiss at her chilled hands touching your stomach. She smirks and you bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to maintain some control.</p><p>"You look drunk," she whispers with a soft smile.</p><p>"That's because I am," you reply, wetting your lips. Her eyes follow your tongue as it traces your bottom lip. </p><p>"We should probably stop," she says, her eyes not straying from your mouth.</p><p>"Probably."</p><p>She leans in just as you do, joining your lips together in a frantic, hungry way.  Her nails dig into your wrist and she swallows the little noises that are released from your throat. </p><p>Her hand slides up your stomach, past your ribs until it's on your breast. She maneuvers the cup of your bra so she can palm your breast.</p><p>You don't even care that you're getting felt up outside of a dingy bar. All you can focus on is her lips on yours, and her fingers starting to tease your nipple. She pinches it slightly as she pulls your bottom lip between her teeth, enjoying the gasp you let out. </p><p>She releases her teeth and moves her attention to your neck, kissing your pulse point and smiling as she feels how fast your heart is beating. Your hands struggle weakly against her grip. You want to tangle your hands into her hair and pull her down to where you need her most. Wanda tweaks your nipple again and your head falls back against the wall. She giggles into your neck, her lips brushing your skin. </p><p>You feel as if you are on fire and each graze of her lips brings you closer and closer to an inferno. You can't think, and while you blame that on the alcohol, you also know it's because of how much you like her.</p><p>You hate the word <em>like</em> when describing a feeling for someone. It feels childish. What you feel for Wanda is much more than a simple schoolgirl crush. She makes you feel alive. She pulls you into her presence and it's like everything you know is suddenly <em>gone</em>.</p><p>But right now, you couldn't care less about the exact wording of how you feel about her. All you care about is her continuing to drive you crazy with her lips and her fingers, and <em>damn</em>, she's quite good at it.</p><p>It isn't until two women come stumbling out of the bar that she pulls away, her hands dropping to her sides. The women are wasted and too busy sharing a joint around to notice both of you.</p><p>Wanda's eyes seem more clear when you turn your attention back to her. She clears her throat and you know she's regretting this. </p><p>You take a step to the side, your back still against the rough brick. You run a hand through your long curls, trying to sober up. A moment ago you were ready for her to take you against the outside of a bar, and now, you feel like you've been splashed with a bucket of ice water. Wanda's face says it all. </p><p>The women go back in the bar after they take their last drag. You awkwardly cross your arms in an attempt to deflect. Wanda casually wipes your lipgloss off of her mouth before taking yet another step away from you. "It's getting late. I should, uh, close out our tab," she suggests, not meeting your eyes. You watch as she sobers herself up, forcing her body to metabolize the alcohol. It's unfair she gets to make herself sober while you're still a drunken mess.</p><p>You don't have a chance to respond as she hurries into the bar, her hands clenched. She couldn't be any quicker to leave you. You hit the back of your head against the wall and close your eyes. You're too fucking drunk to be contemplating what just happened with Wanda. </p><p>You hear the door open after a minute or two. Your eyes are still closed as you say, "we don't have to talk about it."</p><p>When there's no response, you open your eyes and swallow harshly. It is not Wanda who came outside, but a drunk man. And if you had kept your mouth shut, he probably wouldn't have noticed you, but now you're like fresh bait to him. You can see it in his glazed eyes.</p><p>He's just over six feet with curly brown hair and a handlebar mustache. His jeans are worn out at the knees and his shirt has signs of perspiration. </p><p>"We can talk about whatever you'd like, sweetheart," he says, taking a step towards you. </p><p>You can handle your own, but you're drunk and not as coordinated as you'd like to be. You cross your arms and straighten your back, trying to look a little more self-assured. </p><p>"I thought you were my friend. She'll be out here any minute."</p><p>He feigns hurt, "But aren't I your friend?"</p><p>"I don't want any trouble dude. Just go back inside," you respond as calmly as you can.</p><p>He stumbles toward you and the wall that was once trapping you between a beautiful woman was now blocking your exit away from the man. You hold your hand up in front of you, warning him to step away.</p><p>He lets out a harsh chuckle and your nose scrunches up in disgust at the smell of his breath. He tries to put his hand on the wall and confine you, but you push him away. He stumbles and is forced back a few inches. "Bitch," he snarls.</p><p>If you were sober, he'd be a pathetic mess on the ground, but your vision is wobbly and you can hardly focus.</p><p>The next thing you know, his forearm is on your throat, forcing you against the wall. His face is inches from yours and he doesn't look happy.</p><p>You knee him in his crotch and try to move, but he recovers quickly and his fist is suddenly making contact with your cheekbone. Pain erupts and before he can land another hit, you scramble to fist his curly hair. When you have ahold of his head, you slam it against the brick.</p><p>His skull makes a sickening <em>crunch</em> but you know he'll live.</p><p>He's knocked the fuck out. You fall to the ground, defeated. You lean against the wall, your knees bent. Your head falls into your hands as you try to slow your breathing and sober a little bit up. </p><p>"Fuck," you curse, trying to process everything that had happened in the last ten minutes. You almost got fucked by Wanda, and then almost molested by some creepy man. You're thinking you should probably call the authorities when the side door to the bar opens.</p><p>You scramble away, still on the ground.</p><p>It isn't until you see Wanda that you breathe a sigh of temporary relief.</p><p>She immediately notices you, her eyes locking with yours before they drag themselves up and down your body, assessing you. She glances to the man and you see that familiar red flash in her eyes.</p><p>She looks away from the man and hurries to your side. She kneels on the ground and you feel fury radiating off of her. Even with all of that anger, her hands are gentle on your jaw as she tilts your head to examine your cheek. </p><p>"I think I need to call someone," you murmur, your brain fuzzy.</p><p>"I'll take care of it," her tone is clipped.</p><p>You're thoughts way be scrambled, but when she says <em>it</em>, you know she means <em>him</em>.</p><p>You just hum, the events of the night catching up to you. Your eyes flutter shut as she brushes the pad of her thumb against your cheek. You begin to feel a strange sensation in your head. Well, not really your head, more like your <em>mind</em>. </p><p>It's not an unpleasant feeling but rather a soft tickle. It isn't until you hear Wanda breathe in sharply that you realize what's happening. She's looking into your mind. </p><p>"Stop," you push her hands away but by the look on her face, she's seen the interaction between you and the creep. You didn't want her to see you so weak.</p><p>She pushes her hand through her tangled hair and stands. You watch as she turns her attention to the man. You watch as a red glow streams from her palm and enters his head. His face contorts in pain as his body begins to shake. You plead with Wanda to stop and allow the cops to take him away, but she doesn't listen. You're sure she's going to kill him.</p><p>And then she stops. </p><p>She turns back to you and tells you simply, "he won't do that to anyone again, or his mind will be plagued with every fear he's ever had."</p><p>You're not sure how to respond, so you don't. She offers you her hand, and you consider it for a moment before standing on your own. She wets her lips and drops her hand as she looks away. </p><p>"I'll drive you to the ER."</p><p>"It was just a little punch. The most it'll do is turn my eye black for a week."</p><p>Her jaw clenches. "It was <em>not</em> little."</p><p>"I'm going to my apartment. Thank you for the drinks and," you pause, "the other thing," you settle on, too intoxicated to give a shit.</p><p>"You've had a lot to drink and it never should have happened," she admits.</p><p>"You were just as drunk as me, until you used your powers."</p><p>She begins to argue but stops. "I'm not going to argue with you right now. You're wasted and could have a concussion." She offers her arm to help steady you to the parking lot.</p><p>You roll your eyes but hook your arm through hers, knowing you're not sober enough to walk without making a fool of yourself. </p><p>She drives, and you both sit in silence. She guides you up to your apartment. You fish your keys out of your purse and struggle to get it in the slot. She cautiously takes them from you and opens it herself. She'd never been to your apartment before and you wish you had cleaned it more thoroughly over the weekend. The door shuts behind the both of you. </p><p>Wanda gets you to the couch. You're feeling a headache coming on, and your cheek is beginning to throb as the adrenaline from the assault wears off. She's searching through your kitchen for god knows what. You close your eyes. After a few minutes, you feel a warm, soothing sensation in your mind. It lulls you to a peaceful sleep.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for alcoholism</p>
<p>my bad for any mistakes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You realize you'd fallen asleep when you wake in your bed, covers over you and a glass of water resting on your nightstand.</p>
<p>"Hey."</p>
<p>You turn to the voice and see Wanda sitting on the ground, her arms wrapped around her legs.</p>
<p>There's sunlight peeking through the bedroom's curtains. "Is it morning?" you ask, confused.</p>
<p>Wanda clears her throat and stands, stepping to your bed before sitting on the side, just a few inches from you. "It is." She props her arm on the bed and leans. You notice she's taken off her sweater and is wearing a red low-cut camisole. The triangle cut of the camisole resting over her breasts is lace and you can't pull your eyes away from the wide expanse of pale skin.</p>
<p>You clear your throat in an attempt to startle yourself out of the inappropriate thoughts taking over your mind. "If what you said was true about me having a concussion, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to let me sleep so long."</p>
<p>Her lips turn up at your attitude. "I didn't." She tilts her head, giving you a look you can't quite place.</p>
<p>"I don't remember waking up through the night."</p>
<p>"You do know what my powers can do, right?" she teases.</p>
<p>You think for a moment before your mouth falls open. "Did you, like, replace my memories?"</p>
<p>She shakes her head. "I wouldn't do something like that without your permission. I just," she pauses, "dampened them. They weren't pleasant. You were in a lot of pain after I got you home."</p>
<p>You silently curse at yourself. You fucking hate being burdensome. You're better off alone. You don't like when others care for you. It makes you feel <em>wrong</em>. "Well, uh, thanks for everything," you try to dismiss her as you sit up in the bed. She doesn't seem to hear you as her eyes look across the bed. You follow her gaze and swallow a lump.</p>
<p>"Who's that?" she asks softly, her eyes breaking away from the picture and finding yours.</p>
<p>For a brief second, you consider telling her off, but she seems to <em>genuinely</em> want to know. You tell her, "my sister."</p>
<p>"Is she..." Wanda trails off.</p>
<p>"Dead? Yeah. Killed herself after the snap." You haven't talked about her in a long time. The grief of losing her sits on your chest like lead and you feel the need to tell her, "We lost our parents after Thanos. She also lost her husband. I tried to be there for her, but we were both grieving. She took her life a year after. When everyone who was killed from the snap returned, those who died <em>after</em> it," you pause and swallow the lump in your throat before continuing, "well, they remained dead."</p>
<p>Wanda's fingers reach out and interlace with yours. You don't pull away. "What's her name?"</p>
<p>You haven't spoken her name in over four years and you're still not ready to.</p>
<p>Wanda nods as you struggle to answer. "You don't have to say." She gives you a look you know too well. She too has the burden of losing a sibling.</p>
<p>The moment was getting a little too real for you, so when her phone buzzes, you're grateful for the break in the tension. Her hand drops yours and you bite the inside of your cheek to move your attention away from the loss of contact.</p>
<p>She unlocks her phone and reads the text with a frown.</p>
<p>"Everything okay?" you ask.</p>
<p>"It will be. I have to go. Work."</p>
<p>"Superhero stuff?" you ask, a hint of teasing in your tone as you try to lighten the mood. You've become so efficient at pushing down your emotions that it's almost second nature.</p>
<p>She smiles and shakes her head. "Something like that."</p>
<p>"Well, um, thank you for last night. For the helping me get home part <em>not</em> the kissing me part — oh god,<em> forget it</em>," you flush, embarrassed at your lack of eloquence.</p>
<p>She smiles, tells you to rest, and that she'll call you later to check-in.</p>
<p>(You don't ask how she has your number. Even though you've spent months getting to know each other, you never once shared contact information. You simply continued to meet at the bar after group.)</p>
<p>Wanda leaves and you try to recognize how you feel.</p>
<p>You're upset with yourself. You feel like you were hot and cold with her this morning. You feel like a bitch. You're also upset with yourself because she has <em>so</em> much to worry about and do, and way more people to grieve. Your parents came back. Hers are still gone.</p>
<p>She lost the love of her life and — <em>oh god</em>. No wonder she reacted the way she did after you made out. She might be feeling guilty or depressed <em>or so many other things</em>. You didn't even think of how you might have been the first person she's kissed since the Vision's death.</p>
<p>Alcohol makes you do stupid things and act carelessly without consequence.</p>
<p>
  <em>And yet, if she were to ask you to join her tomorrow at the bar, you wouldn't turn her down.</em>
</p>
<p>You know you need rest, but your brain is working overtime processing the events of last night. You call into work and request a sick day. You've always hidden in your work, going in on weekends and skipping holidays in order to bury yourself in so much activity you don't have time to think about the grief. With all the time you've spent in the office, you have plenty of days off to utilize. They've been stacking up, unused.</p>
<p>You need to get your head straight.</p>
<p>But what you <em>need</em> isn't quite what you <em>want</em>.</p>
<p>Rather than schedule an appointment with a therapist, or get some sleep, you turn to alcohol - as if it hadn't fucked you up enough.</p>
<p>There's a bottle of Jack Daniels hidden under the sink. You pull it out with a huff and set it on the counter.</p>
<p>Feeling drunk is better than feeling whatever <em>this</em> is.</p>
<p>She doesn't come back. You pass out after one too many drinks but you know she doesn't come back because you receive a text message from an unknown number that reads, <em>I'm sorry. This isn't a good idea. Take care of yourself please.</em></p>
<p>She doesn't sign her name but you know it's her. You don't text back. You feel relieved and disappointed and <em>something else</em> you can't quite name.</p>
<p>You have a killer headache and a part of you wishes Wanda had come back just to do her mind trick and get rid of the pain, but the other part of you, the proud and nonsensical part of you, is glad she didn't come back - or she would've seen you in this state of an absolute mess.</p>
<p>You spend the rest of your free time trying to sober up and not look like you drank your feelings away.</p>
<p>When you go to work the next day, no one says a word about the obvious bags under your eyes and your short temper due to an intense hangover.</p>
<p>You drag through the rest of the week, debating whether to skip the grief group.</p>
<p>The decision is made for you as you end up having to work late. When you finish, your feet lead you to the bar. It's not too far of a walk from your work, but you know you'll have to get a taxi or ride service back to your apartment. Your eyes scan the bar for Wanda, but her fiery hair is nowhere to be seen. You slouch on a stool and order a few shots of the <em>Stolichnaya</em> vodka. It burns and you wish you had ordered something fruity, but the vodka does its job of getting you wasted fairly quick.</p>
<p>You order a martini to slow yourself down. A figure sits next to you. You turn and face them. The woman is conservatively beautiful. You're not a gambling person, but you'd bet she works in business or law with a job in which she has to travel. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun, a few strands framing her face. Her blazer matches her skirt, tight, but still professional. She gives you a lingering smile and you return it, taking a sip of your drink.</p>
<p>She's not really the type of woman you'd usually go for. <em>(Your type being broken people who can never return the feelings you have for them.) </em>You don't really care. You're drunk and she's hot so when she asks if she can buy you a drink, you accept.</p>
<p>She doesn't quite catch up to your consumption of alcohol, but she's not far behind as she takes a shot of something dark. It's been a couple of hours and you don't even know her name as she asks if you want to go back to her hotel room. You drunkenly grin as you realize you were right about her having to travel.</p>
<p>You're about to say yes when you feel a wave of nausea come over you. <em>Oops</em>, you think, <em>maybe one too many drinks</em>. You apologize to the woman and tell her you're not feeling well as you pull out more than enough cash to cover your drinks. She's disappointed but you don't care because you're already rushing to the toilet.</p>
<p>The bar isn't busy and there's no line to the bathrooms. You stumble into a stall and empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet.</p>
<p>When you're finished, you move to the sink and wash your hands. As you stare at your hands in the water, you think of Wanda's hands. You think of the way the red magic rolls off of her fingers, the power <em>surging</em> — you splash water on your face, trying to break out of your Wanda-centered thoughts.</p>
<p>Your hands find the paper towels and you dry them off as if in a daze.</p>
<p>You look into the mirror and look away. You don't really like the person you see. You haven't for a while.</p>
<p>The door opens and a few girls stumble in, crying about boys. You shuffle past them, trying to walk without falling over. Throwing up had helped, but you are still quite drunk. You decide, in your infinite wisdom, to walk, at night, rather than call a ride service. You stumble out of the bar, your thoughts focused on not tripping over the uneven sidewalk. You don't make it far when you feel a hand grab your forearm.</p>
<p>You turn, ready to make an attempt to defend yourself.</p>
<p>I stead, you are met with concerned eyes. "Wanda?" you question with a frown, unsure if you were really seeing her.</p>
<p>"Are you alone?"</p>
<p><em>Woah</em>. She looks <em>good</em>.</p>
<p>Your eyes trace over her, appreciating the simple blouse paired with dark jeans. Your eyes find hers and you bite your lip at the smokey red eyeshadow that dusts her eyelids in such simple perfection.</p>
<p>"I was going to go home with a lady but I didn't feel so good," you respond, your brain too jumbled to realize being this honest wasn't the greatest call.</p>
<p>You don't notice how Wanda's grip tightens or how she clenches her jaw. "You know being a helpless drunk isn't as endearing as you might think."</p>
<p><em>Ouch</em>.</p>
<p>Her words are harsh. You respond equally upset, "Oh, fuck off. Why are you helping me? Just go back to leaving me alone."</p>
<p>She huffs and guides you into her side for balance. She walks slow enough so you can keep up, but fast enough to show she means business. "Why weren't you at group today?"</p>
<p><em>Because you were there.</em> "I had work. Why weren't you at the bar?"</p>
<p>"Do you think I just happened to be in the area?" she mocks. "I was on my way when I saw you stumbling like a seventy-year-old man who just got his hip replaced."</p>
<p>You can't help it when a chuckle escapes your lips. You clear your throat. "Blame it on that vodka you convinced me to drink."</p>
<p>She pauses and because you're leaning against her, you do as well. "You drank vodka, <em>willingly</em>?"</p>
<p>You don't respond. You're too distracted by the heat her body is giving off as you cuddle closer. "Why isn't it a good idea?"</p>
<p>"What?" Wanda asks, her brows furrowed in confusion at your change in subject.</p>
<p>"Your text. Why isn't <em>this</em> a good idea?"</p>
<p>She begins to walk again, dragging you along. "This is not a conversation we need to have."</p>
<p>You sigh and give up, too tired to argue.</p>
<p>Your head is tucked into her shoulder and her hand is on your waist, keeping you from tripping. <em>She smells nice.</em></p>
<p>She laughs lightly.</p>
<p>Oh. You said that out loud. </p>
<p>The walk back to your apartment is long, but you're drunk and Wanda is warm and it goes by too quickly for your liking. She helps you unlock your door, and get you to bed. When your head hits the pillow, you're asleep.</p>
<p>When you wake in the morning, you'll be mortified. Wanda taking care of your drunk ass was becoming too familiar.</p>
<p>But for now, you were out cold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>kudos &amp; comments pls? i'd love to hear your thoughts :)</p>
<p>tweet at me: @ sapphicshaw</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wrote this bc elizabeth olsen can absolutely wreck me </p><p>comment and give kudos pls? i'd really love to hear your thoughts!<br/>thank you :)</p><p>twitter: sapphicshaw</p></blockquote></div></div>
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